LONDON IRVINE is the model Kook, born into privilege on the Outer Banks, where her father owns the island's top hotels. To the outside world, she appears to have it all-beauty, wealth, and charm. But beneath her polished exterior lies a girl torn be...
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It was officially summer, and the Pogues, along with London, decided to head to one of the half finished construction sites on Figure Eight to hang out. It had become one of their go to spots-it was quiet, isolated, and perfect for getting away from everything. No workers ever seemed to be around, which meant they could drink, play games, and just be themselves without interruption.
The sun was starting to set, casting long shadows across the scaffolding. London sat cross-legged on a patch of dry concrete, right next to JJ, the two of them locked in a heated game of Uno. The rest of the group spread out nearby, Kiara was taking a tour of the house whilst John B was goofing around on the roof of the building and pope was stupidly egging the boy on.
London tossed a card onto the growing pile in the center, then looked up at JJ with a fiery glare. "No, you can't put that card down!" she snapped, her voice sharp with irritation.
JJ, lounging back with a smirk, shrugged lazily, not taking her seriously. "Why not? You did it last round," he shot back, flipping his own card down defiantly.
London's eyes narrowed. "No, I didn't," she insisted, leaning closer, her tone accusing.
JJ didn't back down, matching her intensity. "Erm, yeah you did. That's literally why you won," he countered, his eyes gleaming with amusement.
London's jaw dropped slightly. "Are you calling me a cheater?!" she yelled, her voice rising above the quiet hum of conversation around them.
"Well, if the hat fits..." JJ retorted, lifting his eyebrows mischievously.
London blinked at him, her expression caught between disbelief and frustration. "That's not how the saying goes, JJ," she argued, shaking her head like she couldn't believe what she was hearing.
"I'm pretty sure it is," JJ said, his smirk widening as he shuffled his cards.
Before London could correct him, John B, who was standing on the roof cut in, rolling his eyes. "Can you two stop arguing for like five minutes, please?"
John B turned back to Pope, nodding toward the edge of the structure where the drop seemed to fall forever. The wind had picked up, stirring the loose ends of his hair as he eyed the gap. "What do you think this is? A three-story fall to the deck?"
Pope, squinting as he picked up a nearby drill and toyed with it, aiming it playfully at John B like it was a gun. "I'd give you about a one-in-three chance of survival," he replied, deadpan.
John B gave him a mock serious look, leaning forward as if seriously considering it. "Hm. Should I do it?" he asked, testing Pope's resolve.
Pope didn't miss a beat. "Yeah, jump. I'll shoot you on the way down," he said, casually pointing the drill at John B's chest, the tip whirring slightly.
